I Carry Your Heart
by texasraptor
Summary: A reboot of the episode "Remembrance of Hit's Past," expanding both the time line and adding new scenes. Frank Furillo fights for his life as his wife remembers the beginning of their life together and the Hill Street cops search for the shooter.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The television series Hill Street Blues nor it's wonderful characters don't belong to me. I have no intention or expectation of making a profit from the story.

* * *

I was a huge fan of Hill Street Blues during it's original run, and watched the show while it was in syndication. A few months ago, I found the series on DVD in a half price bookstore and bought it. After watching all seven seasons, after many years I got the writing bug again. I decided to re-imagine the episode "Remembrance of Hit's Past," expanding both the time line and adding new scenes. I used as little of the original dialog as I could, but I did use the opening turn out briefing from the episode.

* * *

6:32 AM

"Item six," Sargent Stan Jablonsky said, as he made his way around the briefing room, clipboard in hand. "Federal investigation into local meat handling practices. Illegal sales of inferior pork bellies have been traced to uh..."

"The corner of Decker and 125th. I know her, Sarge," Detective J. D. Larue said with a shrug. The room erupted in laughter.

Stan waved his hand at J. D. and shook his head. "Anyway, Mick Belker is working an undercover at Orloff's Meat Packing Plant coordinating with people from the Health Department."

Stan checked his clipboard for the next item."Item seven: The retrial of Al Biamonti begins in earnest today. Now just like those Nazis, this Mafia kingpin thought he could skip out on justice. But even though it took seven years, they got him. He's been extradited from Palermo, and the Captain is testifying against him today. Item eight: Relates in as much as Lieutenant Hunter takes station command in the Captain's absence."

Stan paused to take a breath. "Last item: if you can sing, if you can dance, if you can play an instrument, tell jokes, juggle, do magic tricks, you ought to sign up for the PBA Dependant's Amateur Night. Now people, people... The Hill and the Heights are responsible for raising the money for the widows and orphans, so if you got any talent, for heaven sake get out there tonight and flaunt it, cause we want to have a great show. Okay, that's all I got. Let's move. Stop 'em from gettin' away!"

* * *

"Déjà vu, Frank?" Chief Fletcher Daniels asked.

"Definitely, Chief," Captain Frank Furillo said. Seven years... he thought. Much had happened since the first Biamonti - LaClerc trial. He had been promoted to Captain and taken command of the Hill. Most importantly, he had met and fell in love with Joyce.

Frank glanced to his right. He had first drawn eyes on Joyce Davenport on these very steps. He had been pleased to find she was defending LaClerc. During his testimony, he found Joyce to be talented,feisty and intelligent. Their verbal sparring delighted him.

Biamonti's extradition had been unexpected, and Frank hadn't thought of the trial in years. Having spent weeks building the case against Biamonti and LaClerc, he and his detectives were incensed when the man skipped the country, but he had put it behind him and moved on. Shortly after the trial, Daniels was made Chief of Police, and Daniels promoted him to Captain.

"I have no doubt your testimony will be as successful as the original trial. I remember being told the word was around the D. A.'s office was that Biamonti would be convicted on all counts, mostly because of your testimony. You know Frank, this trial could climb a couple of rungs on your ladder."

"To what?" Frank asked.

"This morning's editorial page says you're a viable candidate for mayor. What do you say, Frank?"

Frank had learned to ignore Daniel's jibes, but this morning he grew irritated by his boss. He had not had a chance to read the paper before he left the apartment, but it didn't make any difference.

"I've already said I've talked to some people about running, but that's all," he said wearily. "I haven't been asked, and even if I'm asked, I don't know if I'll run."

They came to a stop at the top of the stairs, and watched the throng of reporters surrounding Biamonti.

"And Biamonti moans that we control the press." Daniels said.

Noticing Daniels and Frank's arrival, the herd of reporters charged towards the men and surrounded them.

Bombarding Daniels with questions about the trial, Frank hoped he might escape any questions about his future plans. He frowned when a microphone was shoved in front of him.

As the reporter asked him a question; he felt a vicious blow to his chest, driving his breath away, the strength from his legs. In a desperate attempt to remain on his feet, he grabbed Daniel's shoulder, then as his strength failed, he crumbled to the ground. From far away, he was conscious of shouting.

Then he heard Irwin's voice close to his ear. "Hang on Frank, stay with me," Irwin said.

His consciousness fading, a picture formed in his mind. "Joyce," he whispered. Then he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

"Everybody, get the hell away! Give us room!" Daniels yelled, pushing reporters away. "Somebody call an ambulance!".

The reporters backed away slowly still taking pictures; still shooting video.

Daniels saw a uniform cop reach for his radio. "I've got it, Sir," the cop said. After speaking for a few seconds later, he put the radio away. "They're on their way, Chief."

Daniels nodded, then knelt beside Frank. "Has he said anything?"

Assistant District Attorney Irwin Bernstein had heard Frank whisper Joyce's name. He didn't trust Daniels not to spread Frank's words around. He would tell Joyce of course, and Henry, but no one else needed to know this personal information. Irwin hesitated, then said, "No, nothing. Help me loosen his clothes. We need to put pressure on the wound."

Daniels did as he was told. As he loosened Frank's tie, Irwin unbuttoned Frank's overcoat and suit coat and vest. Daniels winced as he saw the amount of blood Frank was losing.

Irwin reached for his handkerchief, and Daniels handed him his handkerchief as well. Suddenly, several people handed them their handkerchiefs. He stacked the cloths and pressed them against Frank's chest, and felt his rapid, shallow breaths under his hand.

* * *

Obstructed by the reporters, his weapon drawn, Henry looked fruitlessly for anyone who seemed out of place. Henry broke free of the reporters and approached several uniform cops standing around waiting for orders. Pulling out his badge, he approached the cops. "Lieutenant Goldblume, Hill Street. I need you to get statements from as many witnesses as you can. When you're through, call everything in to Hill Street. Ask for Lieutenant Buntz."

The cops nodded and moved towards the crowd, their pens and notepads out.

With his options exhausted, Henry made his way back back to the others. Unconscious, Frank was ashen. "Is he breathing?" Henry asked.

"Barely," Irwin said. "That ambulance needs to get here now." It was a cold morning; Irwin covered Frank with his overcoat to keep him as warm as possible. He reached under the coat to reapply the compression to Frank's chest.

Henry watched helplessly as Irwin administered to Frank. Frank was Henry's closest friend. He grew ashamed about the times Frank had covered for his failings. If Frank lived, that would change.

In the distance Henry heard the wail of a siren. "Thank God," he said.

A few seconds passed and the siren grew closer. Then the ambulance pulled to a stop behind Daniel's limousine. Two men jumped out of the ambulance and jerked the stretcher out of the back of the ambulance and they hurried up the steps. Daniels stood and backed away from Frank to give the paramedics room.

"I've got pressure on the wound," Irwin said.

"That's good. We'll take it from here," the first paramedic said.

Irwin withdrew the blood soaked cloths from Frank's chest and stood up, and grabbed his coat and put it back on. He saw he had blood on his hands. Frank's blood...

"What's his name?" the paramedic asked.

"Captain Furillo," Daniels said.

Henry watched the paramedics quickly go to work. As he checked his pulse and airway, one man called out Frank's name to check to see if he showed any awareness.

"No response. Airway is clear. Pulse rapid and thready," the paramedic said. "We need to check for an exit wound."

The two men smoothly rolled Frank on his side. Henry saw there was no exit wound; the bullet was still in Frank.

"Respiration shallow," the second paramedic said, as he applied a compression bandage to to the wound. "We need to roll ASAP. Once we're rolling, we can rig the IV line."

The men carefully lifted Frank and placed him on the stretcher. There was no reaction from Frank.

"Where are you taking him?" Henry asked.

"Mercy," the paramedic called out.

Henry turned to the others. "I'm taking Frank's car." He had driven the car to the courthouse with Frank and still had the keys. He and the others ran down the steps and jumped into the car.

Henry placed the police light into it's cradle on the car's roof, and jammed the car into gear. They sped off in pursuit of the ambulance.

* * *

Joyce Davenport froze at the judge's words; words she had hoped never to hear. _An emergency phone call from a Lieutenant Goldblume..._ Unable to speak, she nodded then made her way to the back of the court room. There was only one reason Henry would call with that message. Her hand shook as she dialed the number; she didn't recognize the number.

The phone connected on the second ring. "Hello," Henry said.

"Henry, what's happened to Frank?"

"Joyce, he's been shot in the chest. They took him straight to the OR."

"What hospital?

"He's been brought to Mercy."

Joyce closed her eyes and told herself to breathe.

"Joyce, do you want someone to bring you to the hospital?"

"No, I can drive."

"Want an escort?"

The hospital wasn't far from the courthouse. "No, I don't want to wait. Thanks, Henry."

"I'm in the surgical waiting area on the fifth floor. Be careful."

"I will."

After telling the judge she had to leave, Joyce hurried to the parking lot. Fumbling for her keys, she cursed in frustration. At last she managed to get the car door unlocked and and the car started. She resisted the urge to floor the accelerator. The reporter on the radio spoke in breathless tones and said a sniper had shot Frank. Biamonti, you bastard, she thought.

* * *

They sat in the police unit in silence. Lucy Bates could not believe what she had heard. Never in a million years could she believe Captain Furillo could be shot. A street cop, yes it could happen, but not the Captain.

"Where do you want to go?" Joe Coffey asked. "Back to the precinct?"

Lucy was torn between her sense of duty and her concern for the Captain; a need to know what had happened.

In the end, she settled on duty. "Let's stay on the road for now. They probably don't know much right now. We'll check back at the precinct later."

"Okay... Let me know when to head in." Joe stopped the car and looked at Lucy. "Luce, he's a tough guy. He's gonna pull through."

Lucy looked at her partner and nodded. If there was one thing she had learned about life, it was that there was no predicting the outcome.

* * *

The hospital had given them one of the phones in the OR waiting area to use. Who first? He wondered. Faye, he should call Faye. He dialed the number to her company. "Siegel Jamison, this is Jenny. Can I help you?"

"Yes, this is Lieutenant Goldblume from Hill Street Precinct. I need to talk to Faye Furillo. It's an emergency. I'm a friend of her ex-husband."

"Faye's in a meeting right now, but I'll go get her."

"Thanks." Henry paced as far as the phone cord would allow, then stopped and drummed his fingers on the counter.

"Hi, Henry," she said. "Jenny said you were calling with an emergency. Nothing's happened to Frank has it?"

Henry was glad Faye had not heard about Frank from the media. "I have some bad news." There was no easy way to say this. "Faye, Frank was shot this morning."

Henry heard Faye gasp. "My god, no. Is he alive?"

"He's in surgery at Mercy. He was shot in the chest. It's bad, Faye."

"Does it have something to do with that mobster?"

It probably was a mob hit, but Henry remained convinced it wasn't a sniper. He had heard the shot. "It looks like it."

"Does Joyce know?"

"She's on her way to the hospital."

"Oh my God Henry, what am I going to tell Frank Jr.?"

How does a mother tell an 11 year old that his father has been shot and may die? "I don't know how much to tell him, Faye. Until we know more, at this point you might just tell that he's been injured."

"Yes, that sounds good. I promise I won't bother you, but is there a number where you can be reached?"

"They've given us a phone to use. The number's 256-3985"

"Thanks. Tell Joyce I'll be there later once I get the kids settled. Unless she doesn't want me there."

"Faye, I'm sure she wants you here. I'll let you know when Frank gets out surgery."

"Okay. I'll talk to you then."

* * *

Howard Hunter leaned back in his chair, well, Frank's chair to be exact, and surveyed the squad room, reveling in his temporary power. The patrol cops had their assignments and were on the street. At this hour the squad room was relatively quiet.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the squad room. Rising, Howard walked towards the door, where he was met by Stan. "Lieutenant, the dispatcher says the Captain's been shot," Stan said, his expression alarmed.

Howard's jaw dropped and he almost dropped his pipe. "What? Are you sure?"

"It came over the radio."

"Did they say how bad he was shot?"

"No, just that he had been shot."

Howard did not know what to think; what to do. He thought of himself as a man of action, always in control. "I would think we'll hear from Henry soon," he finally said.

"Yes, I'm sure he'll call. Lieutenant, there some things to be done. I'll take care of it, if you'd like."

"Yes, Stan, you do that."

"People will want to give blood. I'll check everyone's blood type, and send the matches first to donate. Everyone will want to go to the hospital. I'll set up a schedule by roster so they don't all show up at the hospital at the same time."

Howard was barely listening to Stan. He was dazed, numb with shock, and he aimlessly moved away from Stan.

Stan caught up with Howard and brought his hand against Howard's chest to stop him. "Everything okay, Lieutenant?"

"No, I can't breathe or think."

"I know. I feel the same way. But we have to take care of things, for his sake."

Howard took a deep breath and gathered himself. "You're right Stan."

As Howard went back to Frank's office, he was stopped by a khaki officer. "Lieutenant Hunter, Lieutenant Goldblume is on line three."

"Got it," he called out. He hurried to the telephone and picked up the line.

"Henry?"

"Howard, you've heard?"

"Yes, over the dispatcher. It's horrible. How bad is he?"

"It's bad. He took a slug in the chest. We don't know the caliber yet. It didn't look large. They took him directly to surgery."

"Joyce?"

"She's on her way."

Howard's mind had begun to clear and function again. "Okay, good. Is there anything I can do?"

Henry thought for a moment. "Can you call Ray? He'll hear about it, but I'm sure he'll appreciate a call."

"Of course. I'll be glad to."

"Thanks, Howard."

"Stan's going to keep the bulletin board updated. Tell Joyce we're thinking of both them."

"She'll appreciate it. I'll let you know when I hear something."

"Okay, Henry." As Howard ended the call, he looked around the office; he suddenly felt like a trespasser in Frank's office.

* * *

Joyce fought to remain in control as she rushed into the hospital. Please, let him live... She prayed, staring at the ceiling of the elevator as it rose to the fifth floor. As she went through the door, a cop tried to bar her way; she had to restrain herself from shoving him aside.

"I'm Mrs. Furillo," she said curtly.

The cop nodded and backed off.

Daniels, Henry and Irwin moved towards her.

"The radio... It was a sniper?" Joyce asked.

Henry shook his head. "I heard a shot next to me. The gun was silenced."

"Henry, I didn't hear anything," Daniels said.

"You were farther away," Henry said.

"Come sit down Joyce," Irwin said, putting the debate to rest. He led Joyce to a couch. Henry and Daniels followed.

"Joyce, can I get you some coffee?" Daniels asked

"I'd appreciate that, Chief."

"I think you take it black." Daniels said.

Joyce nodded and Daniels stepped away looking for the coffee pot.

"Did he say anything? After he was shot?" Joyce asked. That question was important to her for reasons she could not say.

"He said your name," Irwin said. "You were on his mind."

Joyce almost lost control right there. As Daniels returned with the coffee, Irwin placed a comforting hand on her arm.

Joyce smiled at Irwin, grateful for her friend's presence. Although they were legal adversaries, they had a great deal of mutual respect and admiration. Frank and Irwin had become close during the police corruption investigation.

"Thanks," as she took the cup of coffee from Daniels when he returned. "Faye needs to know."

"I've called her," Henry said.

"Good." Joyce took a sharp breath. "Oh... I should call Frank's brother." She remembered passing a pay phone outside the waiting area. She put the cup down and reached for her purse, looking for change.

"The hospital's given us a phone to use," Henry said.

"It's long distance," Joyce said.

Henry shrugged. "You can pay them back later."

Joyce chuckled. It felt good to laugh. "That's true."

"Come on, I'll show you where the phone is."

Henry led her to the phone. She didn't have a business number for Joe, but she had his home number. Hopefully his wife would be at home. She would know how to get in touch with Joe. retrieved her phone book. She was relieved when he answered the phone.

"Joe," Joyce said without preamble. "Frank's been shot. He's in surgery."

"My God, Joyce. I... I don't know what to say. When we talked over the weekend, he said he was supposed to testify at that mobster's trial. Was it the mob?" Joe asked.

"That's what everyone thinks."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"No one knows. He was shot in the chest. He's still in surgery."

"I'll tell everyone else what's happened. Has Faye been told?"

"Yes, she's been told."

"Good. That poor kid."

"I know," she said. She no longer thought of Frank Jr as her step-son. The boy had carved a place into her heart, and she loved to spend time with him. He was so much like his father, she thought fondly, and they were crazy about each other. Frank Jr would be so frightened and worried about his father.

"I can't believe we just saw him a couple of weeks ago."

"I'm glad we made the trip, Joe for a lot of reasons." The visit had begun badly. After five years, Frank's parents were still opposed to Frank's divorce from Faye, and their marriage. But at least his mother had warmed to her during the visit. Sadly, his father remained cold towards the both of them. Surely, he could find it in his heart to put his feelings aside with his son's life hanging in the balance. It had been clear to her that the man's attitude had hurt Frank.

"I am too," Joe said.

"I'll call you whenever I hear something."

"Okay, talk to you soon."

Joyce went back to the others and sat down. She took a sip of the coffee. She had a feeling she would be drinking a lot of coffee in the next few hours.

"Did you get in touch with him?" Irwin asked.

"Yeah, He's going to tell the others. I'll call him back when Frank gets out of surgery."

"I need to get in touch with my office," Irwin said, rising from the chair. He walked over to the phone to make the call.

"Joyce, I promise we'll get whoever did this." Daniels said.

Joyce nodded. "Right now, I just want him to live."

"Exactly," Daniels said.

"Chief, can I talk to you?" Henry asked.

"Sure, Henry."

"Be back in a minute," Henry said.

Joyce nodded and watched the men walked off.

* * *

Daniels led Henry outside the waiting area. "What can I do for you, Henry?"

"I want us to be involved in the investigation."

"Henry, this is a job for Division."

Henry opened his mouth to argue, but he was interrupted by Daniels.

"I know this is personal to you and everyone on the Hill. It certainly is for me. My God, he was shot down right next to me."

"Chief, I don't want to be in command, but we should at least be part of the investigation."

"I mean to be as gentle as possible when I say this; this investigation is out of your league, Henry. This is a complicated situation. It calls for an expertise you do not have."

Henry's blood pressure went up a few"a== degrees. Out of our league, huh? They would prove Daniels wrong, he swore.

Henry spotted Inspector Scapezi exit the elevator and stride towards the men.

"Chief, Henry. He's still in surgery?" Scapezi asked.

"Yes. No word yet," Daniels said.

"SID did the tests on Frank's clothes. From where he was standing, SID thinks the shooter was no more than 10 feet away from him."

Henry felt a moment of satisfaction, and looked into Daniels' eyes. "Told you I heard the shot."

Joyce watched intently as the men returned to wear she sat. She wondered what Scapezi had told them.

* * *

Scapezi nodded at Joyce and sat down beside her. "I won't ask how you are."00

Joyce shrugged. Scapezi had been part of the Furillo Commission and had clashed with Frank regarding the implied criticism of Daniels. Eventually Scapezi withdrawn from the commission. However, Joyce sensed the man's sincerity in his question. "As well as can be expected. What's going on?"

"It wasn't a sniper. Henry was right," Daniels admitted, glancing at Henry. "The shooter was at close range."

Joyce thought about the unknown man, suddenly hating him.

"Joyce, I'm going to head over to the Hill to check on things," Henry said. "Irwin, what did your office tell you?"

"The lawyers and the judge have a meeting at noon. I can stay for awhile."

"Okay, thanks so much for being here. All of you." She waited for news.


	3. Chapter 3

Detective Mick Belker slammed the the hog carcass into the truck, then shot the foreman a furious glance. He was desperate to find out more about the Captain's condition, but the foreman had been denying him the chance to contact the precinct. What angered him the most was that the dirt bag was enjoying himself.

He felt sick to his stomach. After Esterhouse had passed, in his grief he had blown up at Andy Renko over a stupid argument. Furillo had joined him down in the briefing room. Mick had said Furillo was the best boss he had ever had, but the Esterhouse had been the law there. He had expressed his fear that the precinct would fall apart without him. After patiently listening to him, Furillo had simply said they couldn't let that happen.

He had been reassured and calmed by Furillo's words. He didn't know how much he had to do with it, but the precinct didn't fall apart. Lucy had done a great job as turn out Sargent, and Stan was a godsend. But a lot of credit was due to Furillo. Furillo was a leader, a leader people would follow.

Mick looked steadily at the foreman. He had seen enough shady practices to bust the company. That would wipe the smirk off the jerks face.

* * *

J. D. and Neil joined the group of cops around the message board; Stan was writing information on a blood drive for the Captain.

"That's where we're headed," Neil said. "The Sarge said my blood type is a match to the Captain's."

"We're on our way there, too," Andy said with a nod to Bobby.

"Sarge, is there any word on the Captain?" a patrolman asked.

Stan shook his head worriedly. "Last word was he was still in surgery. Come on, everybody, back to work," he said gently.

"Let's do the vampire thing," Neil said, as the group broke up.

"Yeah, good idea," J. D. said.

The sense of unreality grasped at J. D. as he and Neil left for the hospital. Furillo's shooting had not been at random, J. D. thought with a chill, it had been an assassination attempt.

* * *

Stan took a deep breath. He had not stopped since the word had come down about the Captain. It helped to be able to concentrate on his work. He knew the Captain would be proud of them. The squad room was as quiet as it ever got, without the usual banter and joking around, but despite their shock and anger, the precinct was functioning.

"Lieutenant, is there any useful information in those?" Stan asked as he approached Buntz.

Exasperated, Buntz shook his head and scrubbed at his face. He had been looking through the statements gathered from the eyewitnesses. "Not much, although one person said he heard a pop near him. Goldblume said he heard a silenced shot next to him."

"We're getting a lot of calls about the shooting, but they've been mostly crank calls," Stan said.

"Damn..." Norman said, slamming the reports on his desk. "We have to keep trying. Somebody must have seen something."

* * *

J. D. and Neil drove to the blood center, where they were shown to an area to fill out their profile information and get their blood typed.

The administrator looked over their information. "Detective Larue, according to your information, you had hepatitis eight years ago."

"Right."

"I'm sorry, but anyone who's had hepatitis can't donate blood."

"What!"

The woman looked at J. D. in sympathy. "I know you want to help, but it's not possible."

"Detective Washington, they'll be ready for you in a few minutes."

"Okay, thanks."

J. D. continued to fume. "I can't believe they won't let me donate."

"J. D., maybe the germs or whatever stays in your body even after you get well," Neil said.

"That's crazy."

"I know, man."

They waved at Hill and Renko on the way to the busy donation area. J. D. saw cops from all the precints, but especially from Hill Street. It just made him more aggravated that he could not donate.

The nurse found the vein she needed and inserted the IV to take Neil's blood.

As the two partners discussed possible associates of Biamonti, a nurse approached Neil. "You're a direct match for Captain Furillo."

"Great. You can take all you need."

"Nurse, are you sure I can't donate?" J. D. asked.

"I'm sorry Detective, but if you have had hepatitis, antibodies from the disease remain in your body. That's why you can't donate."

"Oh..."

"Told you Lover Boy," Neil said.

J. D. saw Andy Renko pass by. "Have you heard anything?" Andy asked.

J. D. shook his head. "Grave condition is the only thing I've heard. I asked a nurse if grave is worse than critical. She said grave is as bad as a person can be and still be alive."

"Oh man," Andy said. "They told me to wait over there. Bobby's still giving blood."

"Later, Andy," J. D. said.

Andy clapped J. D. on the back and strode over to the waiting area and picked up a glass of orange juice. He sat next to a Midtown cop he didn't know.

"Are you a friend of Captain Furillo's?" Andy asked.

"No, just a concerned cop. I know there's not a cop in this town who's not rooting for him."

"You got that right."

* * *

"Lieutenant," Stan said as he approached Norm. "There's a guy, a photographer. He says he was there and has a picture of the guy who shot the Captain."

Stan pulled Buntz towards the man. "Mr. Sowers, this is Lieutenant Buntz. He wants to talk to you."

"Mr. Sowers, this way." Buntz said, as he led the man into one of the interrogation rooms. "You were there?"

"Yes, I saw everything. It was horrible. That poor man."

"You took a picture?"

"Yes, it's a picture of the man who shot the Captain."

"Well, let me see it."

"I want to sell it. I sell pictures to all the newspapers."

"Mr. Sowers, I'll give you $50."

"$50! I can get much more from newspapers. Maybe I flush it down the commode."

"How would you like to fall down some stairs, or maybe fall out of a window?"

Sowers exhaled. "All right." He pulled out an 8 x 10 of a man holding a small recorder.

Buntz dug three 20's out of his pocket and grabbed the photo. "Keep the change."

Buntz dashed out of the room and made saw Henry, along with JD and Neil. "Here's the photo," he said.000

"Wait, I know this guy," Henry said.

"You're kidding?" Norman asked.

"I do too," JD said.

"Let's hit the files," Henry said.

They poured over the files for several minutes. "Here he is! Randolph Scripps," JD said.

"This is the guy who went after Ozzie Cleveland on Election night," Henry said. "I'll get the search warrant. Let Hunter know what's going on."

"I'll do it," Buntz said. Buntz spotted Hunter across the room. "Howard, we've got a line on a possible shooter. He went after Ozzie Cleveland on Election night."

"I remember that. So it's not Biamonti?"

"Doesn't look like it. Goldblume's running the warrant now."

"Good."

Henry strode over to them. "The warrant will be ready by the time we get to the courthouse. They said they'd rush it. I'll take Washington and Larue with me." He ran over to the men. "The warrant's ready, I want you two with me."

"Let's go," Washington said.

Moving fast, they jumped into Henry's car and sped off to the courthouse to pick up the warrant.

"You know what Daniels said? He didn't want us to be part of the investigation. Said it was out of our league." He laughed bitterly.

"My Mama said if I can't say something nice about someone then I shouldn't say anything," Neil said.

"My mother never said that. I wonder how Furrillo can stand to be around that guy?" J. D. asked.

"He doesn't have a choice," Henry said. "If he runs for mayor and wins, he'll be Daniels' boss. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

Neil chuckled. "I'd like to see that."

Arriving at the courthouse, Henry took the steps two at a time. He briefly paused when he passed the spot of the shooting; the area had been closed off with police tape.

He stepped up to the desk and pulled out his badge. "Lieutenant Goldblume. I need to pick up a search warrant for 956 Chestnut, apartment 26."

"I'll get it for you," the woman said.

Henry glanced at his watch; he couldn't help but think they were running out of time. Scripps could have easily skipped town by now.

The woman returned with the search warrant. "Here you go, Lieutenant."

Henry signed for the search warrant. "Thanks." He took a moment to make sure the warrant was filled out correctly, then turned and sprinted away. He was conscious of the looks he was receiving, but he didn't care. He ran out of the building and jumped into the car.

The men were quiet on the way to Scripps' apartment building. They hurried up the stairs to the second floor and drew their weapons. Henry nodded and the other two men kicked in the door. In a rush, the men entered the apartment to find the walls covered by newspaper clippings. The apartment was empty. A copy of that morning's newspaper was on the table, turned to the editorial of Frank's possible run for mayor.

"That's where he got the idea," Neil said grimly.

"Yeah," Henry said. Putting that out of his mind, he started to rifle through Scripps' belongings. A jacket drew his attention. He was about to dig into the pockets when J. D. gave a shout.

"Listen to this!" J. D. said, holding up a handheld tape recorder.

Henry heard Daniels voice. "That's from this morning," he said, as he reached into the pocket of the jacket, he found a bullet hole in the pocket. As J. D. and Neil passed, he held up the hole. He rolled up the jacket and took it so that ballistics could test it for gun powder residue.

"I'll run you two back to the precinct. I'm going to go back to the hospital and tell Joyce."

They had their man, Henry thought, as they went back to his car. Now they just had to catch him.


	4. Chapter 4

*Italicized section is from the episode.

* * *

Henry entered the hospital and made his way to the ICU waiting area. Spotting Joyce and Irwin, he went directly to them. "We know who did it," Henry said. "His name's Randolf Scripps."

Joyce froze. "I know that name. I was his PD. He tried to kill Ozzie Cleveland." The thought of Scripps, a man she had defended, shooting Frank, made her weak in the knees.

Irvin held her arm in support. "It's not your fault, Joyce," Irwin said. "When you first defended him, you thought he was a harmless goofball. Everyone did. No one knew he was dangerous until he went after Ozzie Cleveland on election night. You got him committed, which was the proper thing to do."

"The hospital released him in June," Henry said.

"But why shoot Frank?" she asked.

"When we tossed his apartment, we found a copy of this morning's newspaper. The page was turned to the editorial. I doubt it had anything to do with Frank himself. It's his obsession. He's mentally ill."

* * *

Joyce rubbed the bridge of her nose, and glanced at her watch. She had lost count of how many times she had looked at the time. Frank had been in surgery for over three hours.

"There's the doctor," Irwin said.

Joyce stood, apprehensive that the doctor would have bad news. She forced herself to face the doctor.

"Dr. Mendelssohn, this is Captain Furillo's wife," Irwin said.

"Mrs. Furillo, your husband's out of surgery. The gunshot shattered a rib and he's suffered severe vascular damage around the heart. He's in deep shock and there's still some seepage of blood in his chest."

Joyce was almost afraid to ask the question. "Is he going to live?"

"I'm afraid I can't give you an answer until his condition stabilizes. Hopefully we'll know more in a few hours. His survival will depend on his condition and the will to live."

"Can I see him?"

"Of course. Talk to him, so he'll know you're there. It could make a difference."

"I will. Thank you for everything."

The doctor nodded and walked off.

"Joyce, I've got to go to my meeting," Irwin said. "I'll be back later."

"Okay," Joyce said.

"Henry, catch Scripps," Irwin said.

"We will," Henry said grimly.

Joyce took a deep breath and started to walk to Frank's room, when she remembered Frank's brother. She had told him she would call after Frank was out of surgery. "I've got to call Frank's brother."

"Okay, do you want me to call Faye?" Henry asked.

"Yes, please."

Joyce dialed Joe's number.

"Hello," Joe said, his voice urgent.

"Joe, he's out of surgery."

"Good. How is he?"

"His surgeon told me he won't have a prognosis until he stabilizes. He has vascular damage around the heart and he's in shock."

"Have you seen him?"

"I'm going to after I talk to you."

"Joyce, Mother is frantic. She wants to be with you and Frank. Can we come up today?"

"Of course, you don't have to ask. I want you to be here. I know Frank would."

"Okay, we'll see you then."

"Be careful."

"I will."

Joyce found Frank's room and opened the door. There was a private waiting area for the room with a couch. A TV sat on a raised pedestal. She wasn't interested in that. She wanted to be with Frank. An inner door led to Frank.

Frank was on a respirator; IV's and tubes extruded from his body. He was pale and drawn. She noticed that he didn't have a normal hospital gown on, it was a heavier, almost sweater like covering his chest. Was it to keep him warm because of the shock?

She took the seat next to his bed and took Frank's hand and kissed it. "Hey there, Furillo. Do you hear me? I'm here." She stopped talking, unsure how to continue. What was she supposed to say to the unconscious man. She realized it didn't matter what she said, it was her voice that mattered.

"The doctor said I should talk to you. Everyone's so worried about you. They know who shot you. It... It was someone I defended. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." For a moment she couldn't speak, then she swallowed convulsively, then continued.

"I remember the first day of the trial when I saw you staring at me at lunch, I wondered who you were, and why you were staring. You said you saw me on the steps of the courthouse that morning." She paused for a moment. "Were you near there when you were shot?" She caressed his hand. She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, to comfort him as he had done so many times for her.

She continued her monologue. "Then when the trial started I realized you were the guy I'd seen in the restaurant. I hope you know you made me mad. I couldn't shake you during your testimony. I'd never admit that to you of course. You were enjoying it, I could tell, which made me even madder."

The door opened behind her and a nurse entered with an manila envelope. "Excuse me, Mrs. Furillo," she whispered. "I've got Captain Furillo's personal belongings. They were taken from him before surgery."

"Thank you," she said, taking the envelope. "Has there been any change in his condition?"

"I'm sorry. but I don't have that information. You'll need to talk to Dr. Mendelssohn."

Joyce nodded. She opened the envelope and pulled a tape recorder out of the envelope. Pressing the play button, she heard Frank's measured, even tones. They were Franks notes from the original trial. He had spent a few hours reviewing the tapes and taking more notes.

 _"Notes from the first day of the Biamonti - La Clerc trial. Exhibits twenty one to thirty four are recordings made between detectives James, Edwards, Johnson, and Jason La Clerc."_

For an awful moment, she wondered if this would be the last record of his voice. No, stop it, do not be morbid... he's going to live. He had to live.

While Joyce listened to the tape, she inspected the rest of the envelope's contents. She removed his wallet, badge and ID first. After running her finger along the photo, she put it aside. She peered into the envelope and reached in. She pulled out an Alcoholics Anonymous chip with "1 Day" imprinted on it. He had told her he got it after his very first AA meeting. He carried it everywhere.

She remembered during their fourth date, Frank told he was a recovering alcoholic. She had some understanding of the disease as her uncle had been sober for two decades. From that night, he had been open about his struggles.

She was sorry he had drank the year before, but she hadn't been angry at him. She couldn't be angry. Frank was human, he wasn't perfect. It had frightened her because of the physical danger, and with her encouragement, he had returned to his AA group and redoubled his dedication to his sobriety.

Joyce pulled his ring from the envelope and held it against her chest. The ring was too big for her to wear, so she took off her necklace, and attached it to the chain. There was only his watch, some change, a pack of gum and his pen left in the envelope. She left those in the envelope, placed his wallet, ID and badge back in the envelope. She retrieved her purse and shut off the recorder, then placed everything in the purse.

That done, she began to speak to Frank again. "They brought your things to me. I have your ring on my necklace. Just like we were high school sweethearts." She smiled at a memory. "Furillo, remember that cocktail party after your testimony? We hadn't had a single social conversation and you made that blatant pass at me. I was floored. I found then that you might be soft spoken, but you weren't shy. Evan wasn't impressed by your tie. Neither was I, but fortunately for you, I don't judge a man by his ties."

She thought back to those days. "I had just gotten a divorce, a bruising divorce. I started going out with Evan because he was sweet and fun to be with. In a lot of ways he was the perfect rebound fling. We both knew it wasn't going to be permanent.

* * *

 _"You made it," Evan said as Joyce Walked into the room. "I'd almost given you up."_

 _"Sorry, Evan, long day," Joyce said, picking up a glass of champagne._

 _"I was so bored talking to would-be politicians and would-be king makers I almost decided to run for something just to relieve my ennui."_

 _Joyce turned to see Furillo and Daniels engaged in a serious discussion. "How'd they get in here without a warrant?"_

 _"Come on Joyce, you can't have a bear baiting without the bears," Evan said. "I wonder who picks out Furillo's ties?"_

 _"Oh, you're cruel Evan."_

 _"Just observant. Excuse me."_

 _For a moment, Joyce watched Furillo. She had to admit she found him attractive. She finally turned away to talk to a friend._

 _She was getting a canape when Furillo appeared beside her._

 _"Hello Counselor," he said, looking over a shrimp canape. then popping it into his mouth._

 _"Hello Lieutenant... Champagne to wash down the canape?"_

 _"No, I don't drink."_

 _"Never?"_

 _Furillo shook his head and smiled. Joyce noticed the smile easily reached his eyes._

 _"You may not have noticed but this is a cocktail party. So what brings you here? Are you seeking office, or are you simply friend of man seeking office?_

 _Furillo pointed to Fletcher Daniels. "I came because the Inspector invited me, and because I was curious."_

 _"Is it all you expected?"_

 _Furillo nodded. "Uh huh, and more."_

 _"What's the more?"_

 _"You..."_

 _Speechless, she looked up at Furillo in surprise. An amused grin spread over Furillo's face._

 _"Joyce," Evan said from behind her._

 _She briefly turned toward him, then found herself facing Furillo again. "I have to mingle," she said with a vague wave behind her. Then she moved towards Evan, her mind still on Furillo._

 _"I knew I was in trouble," Joyce said, with a soft chuckle. "I couldn't get you out of my head. Then I ran into your car."_

 _"Uh, excuse me," Furillo said, as he stuck his head out the car's window._

 _"Evan," Joyce said._

 _"What?" Evan muttered, continuing to kiss her._

 _She pulled away from Evan, who reluctantly turned towards Furillo._

 _"It's Mr. Tact," Evan said. "Do you have some problem?"_

 _"Excuse me for the interrupting, but you're blocking my car," Furillo said._

 _Evan nodded and kissed her again, then stepped to the side. She entered her car, as Furillo climbed into his Gremlin. Joyce saw Evan nod at Furillo who gave a wave out his window._

 _Joyce started her car and drove up the parking garage exit ramp. She braked her car abruptly as she saw a sign blocking the exit. She put the car in reverse and made her way back down the ramp. She had almost reached the bottom of the ramp when the car made violent contact with the car behind her._

 _Stunned, she sat still for a moment, then jumped out of her car. Behind her car, Furillo climbed from his car, an alarmed expression on his face._

 _"Are you okay?" she asked._

 _"I think so, are you?" Furillo said and leaned down to look at the damaged front of his car._

 _"I don't believe this," she said._

 _"You were going the wrong way."_

 _"I had no choice, they closed the damn gate. Why didn't you honk your horn?"_

 _He looked at her with a quizzical expression. "I don't think I can drive it."_

 _She began to look in her purse for a pen and paper. "Look, I'm totally ins-" she said as some of the contents spilled from her purse. She knelt down to pick up her things, "...insured. Let me give you my agent's number."_

 _Furillo knelt beside her and pulled his pen from his suit pocket. Joyce looked at him for a moment, then took the pen from him and began to write her agent's information. "I'm really sorry about this."_

 _"Well, accidents happen. Thank you, Thank you," he said as she handed him his pen and her agent's information._

 _They rose and walked back to their cars. Joyce turned back and looked at Furillo, intrigued by the man. Inside her car, she heard Furillo start his car. The car rattled as he backed it up to get it out of the way, the front left side of the car tilted down. Joyce frowned as she watched the car. How was he going to get home? She found she cared, and not only because of the accident. On impulse, she pulled up next to Furillo's car, where he was pulling on his raincoat._

 _"How you getting home?" she asked._

 _"Uh... Well, I guess I'll grab a cab. It's pouring rain, and it's the middle of the night. I shouldn't have any problems at all."_

 _He gave her one of those little smiles that Joyce was finding more and more attractive. Without thinking, she returned the smile._

 _"Where do you live?"_

 _"Boyleston Heights."_

 _"Way out there?"_

 _"Well, I can probably find a cab at the Cumberland Hotel."_

 _She thought for a moment, then made up her mind. "Get in. I'll take you over there."_

 _As he finished putting on his raincoat, they exchanged a long look, then without a word, he climbed into her car._

 _Exchanging an occasional glance, they didn't speak at first. She had WNK on the radio, but she suddenly thought that maybe he didn't like classical music._

 _"You can change it if you want," she said._

 _"I listen to WNK."_

 _She was taken by surprise. Furillo was obviously not your typical flatfoot. "Really?"_

 _He grinned."Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"_

 _"No, I was just surprised, that's all. Do you play an instrument?"_

 _"No. Do you?"_

 _"I wish, no."_

 _"Go to concerts?" he asked._

 _"Not as much as I'd like to. Do you?"_

 _"Not for a while." He grimaced. "Five years... I'd like to start going again."_

 _They rode in silence for a few seconds, until Furillo spoke._

 _"I lied."_

 _"Lied about what?"_

 _"I played violin. Badly," he said with a chuckle._

 _She joined in the laughter. "I won't tell. I sort of lied too."_

 _"You took ballet."_

 _She was surprised again. "That's right. How'd you know?"_

 _"Dancer's attitude, it shows."_

 _"Because I walk with my toes."_

 _"That, and your posture."_

 _"I quit at age twelve."_

 _"Some things mark you for life."_

 _"Yes. Fortunately and unfortunately, some things do," she said._

 _Her divorce, for instance. She had been shocked when her ex had said he wanted a divorce. The divorce had left her hurt and mistrustful._

 _"Ah, no cabs," she said, as she pulled up to the hotel._

 _"Well, I can wait inside._

 _"Suppose a cab doesn't come?"_

 _He shrugged. "My tough luck." He looked at her and held out his hand. "It's been enjoyable... Joyce."_

 _He started to open the car door._

 _"I really really feel bad just dumping you here," she said._

 _"Well, you can come in and have a cup of coffee while I wait. Under the circumstances, it's the best I can offer."_

 _"Look, I don't live far from here. I suppose we could go to my apartment and I could make coffee. You can call a cab."_

 _Furillo thought for a moment; settled back into the seat and smiled. "Great. Oh wait..."_

 _"What?" she asked._

 _"A cab just pulled up."_

 _"Oh, I didn't see it."_

 _"Well, it's right there. Too bad," he said._

 _"I guess it's good night."_

 _"Thanks for the ride. See you in court."_

* * *

"I was sad to see you go, Furillo. I've wondered what would have happened if you had gone back to my apartment. I don't know. The chemistry was there, and..."

She jumped as a shrill alarm began to blare.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The television series Hill Street Blues nor it's wonderful characters don't belong to me. I have no intention or expectation of making a profit from the story.

* * *

Startled, Joyce stood and backed away from Frank's bed as she heard shouts from outside Frank's room.

"That's Furillo, get the doctor!" said a nurse.

Joyce held her breath as hospital personnel rushed into the room and began to unhook Frank from the monitors.

"Call Dr. Mendelssohn," someone called out.

"Disconnect the heart monitor. We need an apple bag in here."

"We're ready in Surgery A, we'll transfuse as soon as we get there," a doctor said.

"What's happened?" Joyce asked.

"He's hemorrhaging," the doctor said.

Surrounding his bed, they pushed Frank out the door, their movements urgent.

Numbly, Joyce followed the group down the hall. She stopped and backed up against the wall as they took a sharp left turn through a pair of double doors.

Joyce stood, frozen in place. After a few moments, the doctor returned. "I'm sorry we couldn't speak earlier. Dr. Mendelssohn asked me to explain what's happened," she said.

Joyce nodded, but remained silent.

"The doctor suspects that one of the arteries he repaired was too damaged to hold the sutures. He's going to take a vein from his leg and do a vein graft."

"Thanks for telling me," Joyce said.

"We'll let you know when he's out of surgery," the woman said.

Joyce nodded as the woman hurried off.

The hall was now quiet. Joyce's shocked mind tried to make sense of what had just happened. She made her way to the waiting area, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

Henry saw her expression. "Joyce?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "He... he's back in surgery. One of the arteries they repaired hemorrhaged. They're going to have to take a vein from his leg and transplant it."

Henry grasp her arm in sympathy. "Come sit down."

Joyce shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I'd like to be by myself for awhile."

"Okay. Let me know if I can do anything for you."

* * *

Howard Hunter quietly groaned as Chief Daniels strode into the precinct. Normally a supporter of the Chief, he knew the gathered press would be in a frenzy with his appearance. As he and Stan had worried, a group of local press had gathered after the news of Frank's shooting and were now camped out in the entryway. Stan had warned them not to bother the officers, and they had mostly behaved themselves.

Spotting Daniels, reporters crowded around him as he entered the precinct.

"Chief, do you have an update on Captain Furillo's condition?"

"Chief, have you any leads on the shooter?"

Daniels held up his hands to quiet the people. "I don't have any updates on Captain Furillo's condition other than he's out of surgery and in the ICU."

"Is Biamonti a suspect?"

"I'm nor going to comment on the ongoing investigation regarding Captain Furillo's shooting. I'm here to support the men and women of the Hill Street precinct, that's all. Thank you."

Daniels approached Howard, shaking his head. "Vultures... Howard, how are things?"

"We're functioning," he said.

"I know Frank would be proud."

"He will be proud," Howard corrected.

"You're right."

Daniels made his way around the room with Howard, speaking to the khaki and uniform officers, hoping to reassure the staff.

As they made their way around the precinct, Howard knew he had been correct in his assessment; although he could see the worry and apprehension in their expressions, the personnel seemed determined to push through, as Stan had said, for their Captain.

Stan approached them, his face tight.

"Stan?" Howard asked.

"Chief, Lieutenant, I just heard from Lieutenant Goldblume. The Captain started hemorrhaging, he's back in surgery," Stan said quietly.

"Oh, dear God," Daniels said. He glanced at a clock on the wall. "I have a meeting in 45 minutes, and then I'll go to the hospital. Gentleman, I'll talk to you later."

"Chief, tell Joyce we're praying for Frank," Howard said.

"I will."

"Lieutenant, should I update the board?" Stan asked.

Howard took a deep breath, then nodded. "Yes, go ahead." He looked around the room. "They should know."

"Yes, sir."

Stan walked to the bulletin board and wrote, "11:45 - Captain back in surgery to repair hemorrhage."

There were groans and someone slapped a folder on a desk. As the board could not be seen by the media, Stan pointed around the corner and put his finger to his lips.

* * *

Mick Belker watched as the elevator rose to the ICU floor. He was stopped by two cops guarding the entrance to the waiting room.

"I'm sorry, you can't come in here," one of the cops said, barring his way. Mick growled and pulled out his ID. "Belker, Hill Street. The Captain's my boss."

With a dubious expression, no doubt because of Belker's unkempt appearance, the cop let him through.

He found Goldblume in the waiting area.

"How's the Captain?" Mick asked.

"He's back in surgery. He started hemorrhaging," Henry said.

Belker sat down heavily on the couch. "Oh my god... where's Ms. Davenport?"

"She's in his room. She wanted some time alone," Henry said.

Mick nodded. "Any leads?"

"We know who did it. A guy named Randolph Scripps. Buntz is on his way with the photo."

"What about Division?"

"Daniels said this was out of our league."

"The son of a bitch."

"Yeah... I think Scripps comes here to finish the job." Henry nodded towards the guards. "That's why they gave you a hard time."

"Lieutenant, we're making the bust on the packing plant this afternoon. I gotta go, but I want to stay," Mick said.

"Go back to work, make the bust. That's what your boss would want."

"Yeah, you're right. Tell Ms. Davenport I was here. I'll be back later."

Henry nodded. "I'll tell her."

Henry leaned his head back against the head rest, and thought once again about his relationship with Frank. They had quickly became friends when Frank had taken command of the Hill. He was sorry about the issues that had come between them recently.

Bobby and Andy were stopped by the guards as they entered the waiting area; they quickly showed the cops their ID's.

"Lieutenant, the dispatcher said the Captain was in surgery again," Bobby said as they sat on the couch.

"Yeah. The hemorrhage happened suddenly. They're going to do a vein graft from his leg."

Henry noticed that Andy looked upset and dispirited.

"You okay, Andy?" Henry asked.

"I can't believe this happened, Lieutenant."

"I know Andy, I know. We've got to keep up hope."

Andy nodded, but didn't say anything.

"How's Ms. Davenport?" Bobby asked.

"Bearing up, being incredibly brave."

Ray Calletano charged into the waiting area. Stopped by the guards, he quickly pulled out his ID. "Captain Calletano, Polk Avenue."

Urgently he approached the others. "Henry, I have seen Scripps, he is here in a Midtown uniform. Norman Buntz told me that we should check the ID's of all the officer's on this floor."

"Got it." The two policeman guarding the door were not Hill Street personnel. As he stood up, Henry motioned to Bobby and Andy. "Until further notice, do not let anyone in here who's not from the Hill or someone you know."

"Right, Lieutenant." Bobby said.

Henry and Ray left the room and began to check the ID's of the cops outside the waiting area.

* * *

Norm exited the elevator into onto the surgical floor and saw several cops in the hall. He approached one and turned him around to face him. The annoyed cop glared at him.

"Sorry... Lieutenant Buntz."

The man nodded and looked at him curiously. Turning, Norm saw an officer crumble a paper cup and toss it into the trash.

"Hey, officer," Norm called out.

The cop turned around, Norm immediately recognized him. "It's Scripps!" he yelled, as he drew his weapon.

Scripps took off at a run, Norman behind him. Scripps got a head start, and Buntz was blocked several times by people walking down the corridor. Scripps ran into the stairwell and down the stairs.

Norm did not try to catch him. He stopped at the top of the stairwell, and aimed his weapon towards the lower floors, waiting until just the right moment to fire. That moment came and he fired. Scripps grabbed his shoulder and went down.

Norm holstered his weapon with a satisfied smile.

The cop he had spoken to earlier ran into the stairwell. "You got him!"

"I got him. What a shot," Norm said with a laugh. "Go up to the ICU floor and find Lieutenant Goldblume and Captain Calletano and let them know Scripps has been taken down. He'll be taken to the ER."

"Right."

Norm went to Scripps; he was conscious, but in pain. Scripps cried out as Norm jerked him to a sitting position. "How does it feel, asshole? You got off easy compared to what you did to Furillo."

In moments, the stairwell was filled with police and hospital personnel. The orderlies put Scripps on a gurney and strapped him in, then awkwardly took him out of the stairwell and onto the floor. Quickly the entered an elevator, accompanied by Norman.

In a few minutes, they entered the ER. "How is he?" Buntz asked as the ER doctor examined Scripps.

"He'll live," the doctor said. "Is he the guy who shot the cop?"

"He's the one."

"Glad you got him."

"Me too."

Henry and Ray entered into the treatment room. Henry looked first at Scripps then at Buntz, a broad smile crossing his face. "Good job, Norm," he said, clapping Norm on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Henry. A lot of people were in on this."

"Hill and Renko are here. I'll send them down to watch over our friend," Henry said.

"I'll get them," Ray said. "Good job Norman."

"Thanks, Captain."

"You probably should go back to the Hill," Henry said. "Let everybody know the good news."

Norm nodded. "And Paperwork on the bust, and Internal Affairs will be looking for me."

"Don't worry about it. We'll back you up."

"I'm not worried."

"Are you going to stay?" Norman asked.

Henry nodded, his smile fading. "Yeah, at least until Frank's out of surgery."

"I know this must be tough for you."

"I have to believe he'll make it."

"We all do. See you later," Norman said, plopping a piece of gum into his mouth.

Henry waited, and stared at Scripps. In a few minutes Hill and Renko walked into the treatment room. "So this is him," Bobby said.

"Yeah. This is him," Henry said.

Andy gasped in surprise when he saw Scripps. "My God."

"What?" Bobby asked.

"Scripps... When we were giving blood, Scripps was there trying to donate. I talked to him. He said he was a concerned cop," he said in outrage. "You son of a bitch." Renko took a menacing step towards Scripps, his fist clenched. Scripps gazed at Andy in apprehension.

Bobby and Henry grabbed Andy by the arms to stop him. "Take it easy, Andy. He'll get what he deserves," Henry said. "I'm going upstairs and wait for the Captain to get out of surgery. Wait with Scripps while he's being treated. If they put him in the hospital, call the precinct, and tell them I said to send over a couple of people from the night shift to watch him. You guys can take off after they get here."

"Lieutenant, is it okay if we stay for awhile?" Andy asked.

"Sure," Henry said. "I'll see you upstairs," he said.

* * *

Jelpy1-Thanks for reviewing the story. Although the reasons for Joyce's divorce were not stated, taking a guess, I think whatever happened had been traumatic for her; something which made her reluctant to commit to a man.


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